


Loop-de-Loops

by Momonoki



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 1991), Disney Duck Universe, DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Drake is not going about this in a healthy way y'all, Fluff and Humor, Fluffy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Gosalyn has pinpoint accuracy when it comes to seeing through her Dad's crap, Humorous Ending, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, Love Confessions, Love Triangles, M/M, Meddling Kids, Mild Language, Mistaken Identity, Misunderstandings, Multi, Oblivious, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Sneaking Around, Stalking, Tsunderes, did i write a rom-com?, this is a rom-com
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 07:28:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24467242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Momonoki/pseuds/Momonoki
Summary: Launchpad goes to Duckburg to attend a week-long airshow event.  Drake isn’t too happy about it, but reluctantly sees him off.  Well, he can do whatever he wants!  Darkwing Duck—and Drake Mallard—can get alongjust finewithout him.Really.Then Gosalyn drops the bomb that the real reason Launchpad went to Duckburg was to spend time with his girlfriend.
Relationships: Drake Mallard/Launchpad McQuack, Launchpad McQuack/Other(s)
Comments: 44
Kudos: 70





	1. Saturday

**Author's Note:**

> Characterizations based mainly on the 90s version of DWD, but set in a more modern setting.
> 
> Warnings and such: I sort of headcanon Drake as having kind of a potty mouth (in his thoughts at least) so be prepared for him to drop some f-bombs here and there, but mostly he sticks to milder stuff. Also, I wrote it in the tags, but trigger warning for some spying, stalking-like behavior that occurs later in the story.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Launchpad leaves for Duckburg to attend an airshow event. Drake is not pleased about LP abandoning his sidekick duties, and angrily lets the pilot know about it right before he leaves. Gosalyn seems to think that her dad is upset for other reasons, but Drake doesn't know what she's talking about.

It was a Saturday afternoon, all sunshiny and nice. Or it would have been, if a certain _SOMEBODY_ wasn't leaving him in the lurch, Drake thought bitterly. That Somebody, a certain Launchpad McQuack, was standing in the foyer, a battered old suitcase in hand, about to head out the door. Drake and Gosalyn were standing in front of him, ready to see him off.

"—and like I said, we're plannin' on goin' to see the air show in town, which lasts til next Saturday," Launchpad explained, again, for what seemed like the umpteenth time, and Drake rolled his eyes up at him, probably also for the umpteenth time. 

"Yes, we get it, LP! You're gallivanting off to your old hometown to go see the 'oh-so-great' annual air show," he mocked, punctuating his sarcastic insult with scare-quotes. "Not really surprising that that's the kind of thing a _pilot_ would wanna go see in his free time." 

Now pointing up at his dopey sidekick, he said, "Only remember that you're actually taking time off from your JOB of sidekicking to go do this _silly_ , frivolous thing. I just hope you're okay with _shirking your duties_ like that." 

Launchpad frowned deeply, looking torn. 

Gosalyn scowled up at Drake. "Cut it out Dad, you two just busted the entire Fearsome Five like last week! Heck, I think every one of Darkwing's villains is in jail right now, so crime will probably be pretty low for _at least_ a couple of days. Plus, Launchpad here probably needs a break from the hero game now and again." 

Gosalyn then ran forward and hugged the tall pilot, perhaps trying to cheer him up. Well, Drake certainly wasn't about to encourage his sidekick to start taking all of these vacations at the drop of a hat. 

"You don't just take a ' _break'_ from the hero game Gos!" He exclaimed, crossing his arms.

"Oh, stop _guilt tripping_ him, Dad," Gosalyn said, sticking her tongue out at him. Launchpad laughed nervously while Drake just glared.

"Heh, well, anyway, so that's the plan for my little trip to Duckburg. I put the hotel info on the kitchen counter, DW."

Drake scoffed, and looked off to the side. _As if he needed to know where he was staying! Was he trying to rub it in his face or something that he was going on vacation? Not everyone's so lucky they can just up and leave, like SOME people apparently can._

"If ya need anythin', just let me know." Then Drake noticed that Launchpad had gently placed a massive hand on his shoulder. He glanced up, losing himself in those big, tender eyes for a second. 

Then, clearing his throat loudly, Drake very curtly brushed off Launchpad's gigantic hand. "Well, you'd better be prepared for me not calling you EVEN _once,_ cause Drake Mallard and Darkwing Duck can get along just _fine_ without you!"

He wasn't ready for it—not that he ever was—when Gosalyn elbowed him sharply in the ribs. Groaning, he crumpled, hugging his stomach. 

"What Dad here _means_ to say is have a fun trip, Launchpad! We'll be looking forward to seeing you when you're back home!" Launchpad smiled down at them, but there was something wistful playing about his features.

"Well, my cab's waitin', so…" Launchpad was peering down at Drake, arms slightly extended like he was expecting something.

_Did the idiot want him to give him cab fare? Not gonna happen, LP! If he wants to leave so badly, then he gets to pay out of his own pocket for it!_ Drake loudly _hmmphed_ and turned away, but he tentatively glanced back.

He saw that Gosalyn had accepted Launchpad's open-armed invitation and was now hugging him goodbye. _Oh puh-lease. He's only gonna be gone a week. Big deal._

But when he briefly peered up at LP, Drake was startled to see Launchpad looking sadly down at him. Something in that expression made his guts twist like they'd been stabbed with one of Negaduck's sharper knives. 

"Bye, Gos. I'll see ya later, DW…" His voice was so IRRITATINGLY soft and tender-sounding, especially the way "Deedubyah" rolled off his tongue. Drake grimaced as he felt another sharp twist of the knife. He watched Launchpad turn and gazed at the pilot's massive, muscular back as he went out the door. 

Drake suddenly felt his eyes misting over. _Grr. Must be his damned allergies acting up._

After Gos had finished waving the cab goodbye from the window, she turned and put her hands on her hips, glaring up at Drake. 

"Can you GET any more dramatic, Dad? Way to make Launchpad feel like crap just for taking a trip back home!"

Drake scoffed indignantly. "He's shirking his duties here with me…err, _Darkwing Duck,_ to go play around in Duckburg—why shouldn't I point that out? It's the truth!"

Gosalyn gave him the side-eye. "Yeaaah _riiiiight._ I think you might be just be POUTING because you secretly wish you were going there with him! I bet you'd go to Duckburg—or anywhere really—with him if he so much as asked you!"

Gulping, Drake suddenly found that he was very interested in the welcome mat by the door. "What?! Me, pout?" He waved away the ridiculous notion. "I'm doing nothing of the sort! I'm a little miffed, maybe, since I'll be out a sidekick for a week. And n-no, I wouldn't go just _anywhere_ with him! Especially not _Duckburg,_ that God-forsaken place." 

Gos just shook her head, looking at him like she didn't believe him in the least. 

_Urgh, why did he feel so flustered?_ The whole thing WASN'T a big deal. Maybe he'd pour his nervous energy into making a nice dinner for just him and Gos. _Launchpad be damned._

But even that didn't stop him from setting a place for all three of them. As soon as he did, his stomach lurched, and he tried to hurriedly put back the extra plate. But Gos saw it, and was giving him that look again.

"Gonna be 'just _fine'_ without him, huh? Five bucks says you can't make it _three days."_ Drake felt himself flush. But it was because he was _angry,_ not because of any other... _weird_ emotion he was having right now.

"Young lady, you are ONE smart aleck remark away from getting grounded, and then it'll be a peanut butter sandwich dinner and you going straight to your room!" That straightened her up real quick, and they finished the dinner talking about other, strictly non-Launchpad things.

They then spent the rest of the evening sitting around watching TV. Drake was perched on one side of the couch and Gos was lounging on the floor, half-watching TV, and half-playing her newfangled video game, which somehow was both portable and could connect to a TV screen. 

Drake's eyes kept flitting back to that well-worn spot on the couch that was empty tonight. He sighed.

Gosalyn looked up and over at him. "Dad, he'll be back next week. You need to chill."

Drake felt his cheeks get hot and he involuntarily sat up straighter. "Wh-wh? I'm not even thinking about him, Gos!"

"So who are we talking about, Dad?" She raised an eyebrow at him. 

"Well, Launchpad, of course!" 

_Dammit, that was a trap._

He tried his best to recover. "Ahem, well, who ELSE could we _possibly_ be talking about? Elmo Shutterspark? That doesn't mean I've been thinking about him _ALL NIGHT_ or anything."

"Okay, well, riddle me this, Dad. If you're not thinking about Launchpad, then why are you okay with us watching _Pelican's Island?_ Remember, that show you hate? Launchpad's not even HERE." 

"But we're not..." He turned towards the TV. But sure enough, they had INDEED been watching LP's favorite, _stupid_ show this whole time. Drake pulled at his cheek feathers in frustration.

_He just wasn't yet used to this temporary change. This…betrayal! Yeah, that was it._ And as a result, he was feeling a little bit cranky, so it would probably be for the best if he just turned in early tonight. 

_Tomorrow would be better. Maybe he and Gosalyn could go shopping or something. That would take his mind off... **things.**_

So he clicked off the TV and made his daughter go to bed early, too, despite the inevitable fact that she would grumble even more than usual through the face washing, teeth brushing, and hair combing rituals he made her do before bed. 

"I think you should just be more honest, Dad," she murmured sleepily as he tucked her in. 

Drake shook his head. Sometimes the little imp would say the weirdest stuff as she drifted off. Oh well, as long as she didn't end up sleepwalking again, everything would be just fine. 

He softly closed her door and walked down the hall. He made a point of not looking as he passed Launchpad's room. 

On a normal night, he'd be snoring away in there. Or, sometimes, when they stayed up together, they'd be watching one of those late night talk shows downstairs. Although Drake never really listened after a while, and LP would just as often as not drift off beside him, he didn't mind just taking in the sound of his deep, even breathing.

_Wait, why was he suddenly getting all nostalgic?_ The man snored up a storm and was a couch hog. Maybe it was a good thing LP was on a little vacay; it might give Drake some much-needed perspective. He probably _did_ count on his sidekick too much. 

Drake eyed his handsome self in his bathroom mirror as he got ready for bed. _Wait, was that another wrinkle? Face mask time._

_This is going to be fine, Mallard,_ he told himself, shivering a bit as he crawled between his cool sheets. _Just, you know...peachy._


	2. Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still miffed by LP's absence, Drake takes Gosalyn to the mall to have a fun day, just the two of them, but he keeps getting reminded of the pilot. It's worse when he gets home and they watch a movie with one of Drake's favorite actors.

"Incoming!!" Drake was snoozing comfortably when he felt the familiar crush of a pair of shoes hurtling into his gut. _That's okay, he didn't need an intact pair of ribs or anything..._

"Time to wake up, Dad!" After trampling her poor dad's stomach, Gosalyn hopped to the floor, and expectantly looked over at the heap that was Drake.

"Oh, I'm definitely awake NOW," he groaned, clutching his poor, abused belly as he sat up. 

"What's for breakfast, Dad?" 

"How about some pancakes?" He murmured sleepily. "You could go ask Launchpad if he thinks it sounds good..." but then, he remembered: the big lug wasn't here. _That's right._ _He went off on that stupid trip of his._ Well, no matter. He and Gosalyn would have plenty of fun without that big oaf, just the two of them.

"Can you make the double chocolate ones, with the sprinkles? Pleeeaaasee?" Gosalyn pleaded, and Drake was just about to start telling her how those were only for special occasions because they contained an ungodly amount of sugar and carbs and whatnot, but faltered before he could even retort. 

_Why **shouldn't** they enjoy the nice things for once?_ If LP was on vacation, they could very well have one of their own right here. Drake wanted to punch any and everyone who used the word "staycation"—looking at you, _Binkie from next door—_ but the concept at least certainly applied here.

So with that, Drake made a big batch of the pancakes Gosalyn liked, and during breakfast he asked her if she might want to go to the mall today and do some shopping. He noticed that those little shoes that trampled his gut this morning were looking a bit on the old and dingy side, so if nothing else, he'd like to replace those for her today. 

She was never much for trying on clothes, so that was probably out of the question, but there was other stuff to distract them in the mall too, like the retro arcade that she'd shown interest in from time to time. Usually Drake quickly ushered her past it, as it was a GIGANTIC waste of money and she had plenty of video games at home, but what the hell. Today was about spending some quality time with his daughter, even if his wallet took a bit of a hit. He didn't want to keep dwelling on the fact that Launchpad wasn't there rounding out their little family, so just him and Gos were gonna live it up, at least for a day. Then maybe he could forget all about this weird, achy, wound-up feeling in his chest, especially if he was too busy schooling his daughter in versus mode of classic _Whiffle Boy_ in the arcade.

\--

"Now what was that about not being able to beat you at your own game, Dad? Looks like you need more practice!"

They had gotten to the mall and were now hanging out in the arcade, and despite numerous attempts, _infuriatingly_ Drake couldn't manage to beat his daughter in a single game, not even the old ones he'd grown up with. _Kids these days are so annoying._ He thought he'd have an advantage with the classic, retro stuff at least, but even then he was no match for her skills.

"Well, not all of us have the vast amounts of free time to play video games as much as _certain_ boastful little girls," he grumbled, but when he saw that she was having a great time, he smiled. This was what he needed to get his mind off... _no, bring it back. Don't think about **him.**_

"Wow, check out this game over here, Dad. The graphics look like hot garbage!" Drake looked, preparing to be offended—because **_hey,_** that was _his_ generation's hot garbage—but was instantly more caught up in the fact it was a flying game, where you would control a little virtual plane and do stunts. Instantly, _of course,_ he was thinking about Launchpad, wondering if any of the maneuvers in this game translated to real life. He could imagine Launchpad right there with them, saying something like "Aw, gee, well, I never seen somethin' that fancy before," or "Naw, that move's impossible, DW." He could almost hear his lazy, dopey drawl.

Was he watching real planes do stuff like the tricks in this game, right now, somewhere in Duckburg? If Drake had gone with him, would LP pull him close, and point excitedly at the planes overhead, explaining how each stunt worked, his voice warm and rumbling low in his ear? As if Drake would have any clue what in the world LP was even talking about. But the man could read the now-defunct phone book and it'd be hard not to just bask in his radiating, obnoxious enthusiasm.

"Helloooooo, Dad?" Back on Earth, where non-idiots lived, his daughter was calling him.

_Oh shit, he'd been spacing out._ "You wanna try it, Gos?" He asked, pointing to the machine. She gave him a very serious, insistent nod. He forked over some quarters and proceeded to watch as she played.

Like most of these games, she was annoyingly pretty good at it, but she was a little too keen on doing as many stunts as possible, which caused her polygonal mess of a plane to crash into sharp-edged boulders and such on the grid-like landscape. Watching her do some of the stunts in the game was giving him nausea, especially those upside down spins she insisted on doing—the game called these 'loop-de-loops,' worth 50 points apiece—, which spun the camera out of control. It was so disorienting Drake had to look away a few times. 

Launchpad sometimes liked to do these 'loop-de-loops' in real life, and it made Drake want to barf then, too. 

But one unforgettable time, what made his stomach roil even more than the loops was the fact that Launchpad, excited, grasping Drake's tiny hand in his warm larger one, had been leaning closer and _closer_ toward him, whispering, "Here comes the big one, DW..." Drake had frozen, and unconsciously closed his eyes and turned towards Launchpad, waiting for... _what,_ he didn't know. Nothing happened—you know, other than a _gigantic, hair-raising upside down spin_ , with Launchpad laughing with glee as he finished the loop—but Drake remembered feeling particularly weak in the knees, stomach doing flips ten times bigger than any of the biggest loop-de-loops Launchpad's damn plane could muster.

When Gos had finally crashed too many times and the game ended, Drake suggested that they finally go to the shoe store so Gos could try on some much-needed new shoes. 

The mall had a special store for kids' shoes only, so he took her over there to try to find a new pair. The store was brimming with parents and their kids, some of the brats more reluctant than others to try on new shoes. Gosalyn, thank God, wasn't one of these nervous types though, and soon had a stack of shoeboxes taller than Drake that she wanted to try on.

"Gos, remember that you're getting one pair, sweetie. As in, a SINGLE pair. _ONE,_ " he emphasized, holding up his index finger to symbolize the number.

"I _know,_ Dad! I just wanna try all these, and see which is the sturdiest. I need a pair that can withstand a lot of _abuse,_ " she said, kicking wildly with her foot to punctuate her point. _Well, at least the kid knows what she's about,_ Drake sighed, and helped her tie the laces on the first pair.

Nearby, he could hear another parent helping his kid do the same thing. "How does that one fit, kiddo?" Drake glanced over, and saw a fairly short guy talking to his son, a little boy several years younger than Gosalyn, who shrugged and playfully stuck his tongue out.

"Heh, he doesn't seem to like the colors on that one," said another, much taller man, who had sidled up behind the short guy, and put his hand on his shoulder. Then he addressed the little boy. "How 'bout red, buddy?"

_Oh,_ Drake thought. _They must be partners._ But the longer he looked over at them, the more his stomach was clenching and doing weird flips. The effortless way the two interacted with each other and their kid, the occasional cute flirty remark and tittering between the pair, and the overall gentle, oh-so-tender vibes that family gave off was just making him feel _sick._ He wasn't homophobic or anything, it was just that...

"Hey Dad, check out those two guys over there. Don't you think they look a lot like you and Launchpad?"

_Dammit. Could never get one past his daughter. Yes. You hit the nail on the head, Gos._

"Oh, I don't know, sweetie. I think Launchpad's got a much bigger chin. And _I've_ definitely never worn a color combination THAT bad."

"Maybe so...but look how sweet your doppleganger is!" And sure enough, Not-Drake was _very_ affectionate, doling out hugs to his partner and his kid like candy. _Oof, dial it back, buddy,_ Drake thought, wincing. _Have some dignity, man!_

But apparently the guy had none, because at one point he even grabbed his partner by the bicep—no, you're _supposed_ to grab the big guy by the scarf or shirt collar, _you poser—_ and suddenly, Drake felt like he'd been kicked in the ribs, maybe by one of Gosalyn's new shoe candidates, because—

Not-Drake had pulled down his partner and planted a sweet little **_kiss_** on Not-Launchpad, _right here in the store._ In front of _PEOPLE._ **_OUT IN THE OPEN._** It was just a chaste peck, and no one else seemed to care, but based on the way it shocked him to his core, for Drake that small act of PDA might as well have been lewd. _Downright pornographic._

Gosalyn snickered beside him as Drake just stood there, flinching. "Holy cow, Dad! Can't imagine you ever doing THAT with Launchpad..."

"And I _won't,_ either! _EVER!_ Damn people with their blatant PDA," he huffed indignantly. Then, blushing wildly at the concept of k-ki-kiss—err, being _physically affectionate_ with LP, he quickly added, "I don't get how on EARTH you'd get the impression that I would even WANT to, you know, have a relationship with him _LIKE THAT_ anyway!" 

Gos just rolled her eyes skyward, pulling at her pigtails and groaning.

He was still grumbling about the lewd couple as he and Gos left the store. "The nerve of some people. Acting like that in front of EVERYBODY is so rude. Nobody wants to see that!" Gos was clutching the shoebox with her new shoes and just shaking her head.

_Just IMAGINE how embarrassing that would be if it was you,_ he thought to himself. Like, if he was in the grocery store or something with Launchpad, and he just grabbed a big handful of Launchpad's scarf, his other hand stroking the pilot's big broad chest, just cooing in his ear: "What kind of pasta do you want for dinner, honey? There's a sale on tortellini..." then pecking LP's cheek?!?!

Drake felt roughly like he had during the whole flying loop scenario: sick as all get out, with his face burning at roughly a thousand degrees.

_Urrrghhhhhhhh. No. **NO!**_ No, it was too frightening. That shit belonged on the sci-fi channel, because it was obvious that _aliens_ HAD to be involved somehow.

"Hey, you don't seem to mind _those_ people's PDA, Dad," Gos said, pointing at a teenaged couple that had been walking in front of them for quite some time. The pair had their hands in each other's back pockets and would occasionally plant a kiss on each other as they walked.

Drake scoffed. "Teenagers are disgusting anyway, Gos," he said loudly, at which the couple in front of him looked behind them and gave him a death glare. "Don't ever become one, sweetie." Gos just looked bewildered. 

Drake knew he was in for an ordeal whenever Gosalyn became a teenager. If she was a spitfire now, by then she'd be an all-encompassing inferno, destroying all in her wake. Drake briefly wondered if there was such a thing as teenager insurance. On the other hand, whoever ended up dating his daughter in the future would need Drake Mallard insurance, he thought darkly. _Better say your prayers, kid._

\--

Tired from the mall, they ended up going home. Gos suggested watching some action movies, some of which were a little gory but as long as she had adult supervision, Drake thought maybe it would be okay. Half the time though, he ended up being the one cringing and timidly looking through his fingers at the horrific spectacles on screen. _The special effects these days!_ That guy looked like his head really _was_ blown clean off...but the hero was always fine, bloody and sweaty maybe, but like Darkwing Duck, he was always triumphant.

"Oh, this movie has that actor I like," Drake said, when Gos finally chose a movie that he'd actually seen before. "He's done a fine body of work, you know."

"More like you think he _HAS_ a 'fine body of work,' Dad," she joked, pointing to the muscle-bound hero on the cover, and Drake felt his cheeks getting hot.

"Nooooo," Drake retorted. "He's starred in nothing but critically acclaimed films, and his characters always exude such a suave, cool persona. He's admirable."

"'Critically acclaimed films?'" Gos was checking something on her phone, then showed it to him. "This one— _Rock Hard Steel 3—_ has only 10 percent on Rotten Tomatoes, Dad." 

"Don't trust everything you read on the internet."

"I guarantee if he wasn't in these movies, you'd never even CONSIDER watching them. Plus, I have a _theory_ about why you like this guy so much," she said, smirking at him with a glint in her eye.

_What did SHE know that he didn't?_ "Okay, little missy, let's hear your AMAZING theory." 

"He's a dead ringer for _Launchpad,_ that's why."

_Wh-what._ Drake then looked over at the actor on screen, incredulous. _Was he really...?_

"No, no, no...they don't look a thing alike! You're _crazy,_ Gos," he chuckled weakly. _But the longer he looked..._

"Ahem, the red hair? Huge muscles? Himbo energy?" Drake didn't know what in the hell 'himbo energy' was, but the first two characteristics were definitely similar to LP's. _But he wouldn't, **COULDN'T** admit that!_

"Look, Dad," Gos said, pointing to the screen, and then to her phone showing the covers to the prequels and sequels to this film. "His normal outfit in these movies is even BROWN! Sound like someone we know? That's LP to a T, Dad!"

"T-th-that's not right. A _coincidence,_ maybe," Drake put his hands up to his face, trying to will it to cool off.

"More like a _CRUSH_..." 

Drake decided he would ignore that.

The movie had gotten to a part where the lead was conveniently missing his shirt, guns at the ready, sneaking around in dim lighting, searching for the bad guys. The scene was meant for both suspense and also, of course, to give the audience a little eye candy. But now that Drake had realized that Gos was COMPLETELY right about the actor's resemblance to Launchpad, he was suffering something akin to a sugar overdose. The washboard stomach, the rippling pecs, the military-style pants that were riding a _little too low_...he couldn't NOT imagine Launchpad wearing that right now, and, well... _shiiiiit._

Drake pressed stop on the movie, and switched the input back over to regular TV.

"Daaaaaad," Gosalyn complained. "What the heck?"

"I, uh, ahem, forgot how sexy, err, _INAPPROPRIATE_ those movies were," Drake said. "They ARE rated R after all; not for little girls." Gosalyn groaned.

"Here, kiddo, watch something on TV instead," he said, and handed her the remote. She raised an eyebrow at him and sticking her tongue out at him, immediately switched on _Pelican's Island._

Drake gritted his teeth. _Yes, he probably had that coming._ But he would much rather endure this HELL than just sitting here getting, uh, _distracted_ by those action movies. In fact, he was worried he was the one who would end up 'inappropriate,' not the movie. He couldn't believe he'd somehow, after all this time, missed that tiny detail about how that actor looked JUST like Launchpad...

Was it true, what Gos was saying earlier? About how he might have a c-crush on...LP?! Nah, all these weird feelings had to just be stemming from an, um, _appreciation_ of how kind, sweet, handsome, sexy and wonderful a guy he was. His biggest fan. No _way,_ he didn't have a crush. But Drake had to admit that aesthetically, yes, Launchpad was hotter than a summer's day in hell. Drake couldn't deny THAT. _Them's just objective facts._ But him having a _crush?_ That was a stretch.

_Just a stretch,_ he thought, wistfully looking at LP's empty space on the couch. 


	3. Monday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drake's all alone at home and he doesn't know what to do with himself. Bored beyond belief, he keeps pacing by Launchpad's empty room. Launchpad isn't there to notice if he snoops around a bit, so he does. But then Drake finds something he wishes he hadn't.

Today was Monday, so being the great dad he was, he drove Gosalyn to school. Sure, she more often than not just took the bus, but he was doing her a favor. He wasn't just looking for something to do to try to fill all this empty time. Turning his housekey in the lock, he felt a pang of anger— _he WASN'T sad_ — at the noticeable lack of some _very_ stupid boots lined up with the other shoes in the foyer. On any normal morning, he and Launchpad could have gone out to get breakfast together, but of course, the big idiot wasn't home. Drake wasn't about to go out and get a single black coffee and a donut by himself. Seemed to be no point, somehow. Especially when he couldn't poke fun at LP for taking so many sugars with his coffee and facepalming whenever he'd ask where all the donut holes went.

Standing alone in his foyer, Drake was suddenly, painfully aware of how his house seemed so huge and empty. With Gosalyn at school and Launchpad away, the house was so quiet the silence was almost deafening. 

_Urggh, stop being all mopey!_ He chastised himself. _He used to THRIVE on being alone!_ He just needed to try to look on the bright side, and subscribe to some of that goody-two-shoes, glass-half-full thinking. For example, he FINALLY had a whole day to himself. He could do whatever he wanted. Such as finally taking that long bubble bath he'd been wanting, without being interrupted by Launchpad burning the kitchen down making a snack or Gosalyn breaking windows or vases playing indoor soccer right when his back was turned. Taking a wincing look at the sorry state of his hands, he thought that he could also maybe give himself a much needed manicure. Even Darkwing Duck needed to trim the old cuticles now and again.

But he was dismayed, because even after taking an incredibly long, luxurious bubble bath and giving himself a full mani-pedi, not to mention trying out three different face masks—the pineapple one stung a lot but smelled _amazing_ —, even after ALL of that, it ended up only being 10 am. _What was he going to do with himself?_ Like Gosalyn had said, all of his villains were in the pen, so there was nothing to do! Talk about Darkwing Duck being TOO good at his job. He started pacing around the house, picking at this and that, like rifling through some mail, refluffing the cushions, and other mundane things. _If only LP was here_...somehow lazing around the house was so much more fun- err, _tolerable_ when that big, cheerful dummy was around. _God, was he booorrrreeed._

Drake then found himself wandering aimlessly around upstairs. _H-he had things to do,_ he assured himself, _he just needed to figure out what they were!_ He straightened picture frames, made Gosalyn's bed for her (he had asked her to do it this morning, but _SHOCKER_ , she hadn't done it), and wiped down the mirror in the bathroom. Each time he walked up and down the hallway, he would inevitably glance over into Launchpad's room as he passed it. Who knew the last time he stepped foot in there—it had to have been sometime before Launchpad moved in with them. After passing it for what was probably the tenth or eleventh time, peering into it every single time, he finally stopped dead in his tracks. 

_What is your PROBLEM, Mallard?_ He admonished himself. _If I really want to go into Launchpad's room, then I should just DO IT. This is MY house, I can go wherever I want!_ Plus, it looked like Launchpad's room could use a good cleaning, because judging from the top of the wooden dresser in there, it looked like Launchpad had dusted exactly _NEVER._ Slipping into his housework gear—apron, gloves, duster—he gulped nervously as he tentatively crossed over into the room. He scrunched up his eyes, waiting warily, but lightning didn't strike him down, and no booby traps went off. 

_Well, of course that wouldn't happen. What a silly thing to even imagine._ _Why am I being such a nervous wreck? REMEMBER, this is your house, Drake,_ he reminded himself, and glanced around the small room.

_He wasn't **snooping,**_ he told himself, gripping the duster anxiously. _He had a PERFECTLY good reason for coming in here,_ he thought, eyeing the dusty dresser, but soon enough, his attention wandered elsewhere.

Launchpad didn't have a whole lot in this little room, just a bed, a dresser, and a small nightstand with a lamp. Drake didn't recognize the lamp—it might be something LP brought with him from that hangar he used to live in. His bed, covered with a comforter the same colors as Launchpad's dumb pilot outfit, was laughably TINY. Drake sat down on the edge, marveling at how someone as gargantuan as Launchpad could possibly sleep in such a tiny twin bed like this. As he shifted his weight, the bedsprings groaned loudly. As an experiment, he bounced on it a few times, and found that it was squeaky as hell. 

_Damn, the mattress on this bed is shot,_ he thought. _If you move on this thing even a little, the whole neighborhood would hear and think you were..._

Drake's face was suddenly burning hotter than a bonfire, and he sprang up off the bed, causing it to squeak loudly in protest at his hurried movement. He took deliberate care not to look at or even _think_ about Launchpad's bed again.

He turned his attention instead to the dresser, which he had presumably come in to dust. He gave the top a lazy swipe with the duster, but was far more interested in what these drawers might contain. He opened one and just as quickly, shut it. He, ahem, didn't have any need to inspect Launchpad's _underwear._ But, well, he saw what he saw, and now he'd never be able to forget that there was a very nice pair of silk boxers in there. _Midnight blue...._

He moved on, checking each drawer. Most of it was just LP's shirts, pants, socks and such. Nothing that interesting, although it was amazing to see how _HUGE_ LP's shirts were without him in them. If Drake wore one, it'd be hanging past his knees, like a little dress. _Why was this guy so damned BIG?_ It was kind of irritating. But his face was flushing as his fingers brushed one of the enormous brown shirts' soft fabric.

Finally he got to the bottom drawer, which was a long, horizontal drawer. He thought that it would just be holding more pants or something, but it was a catch-all drawer of random knickknacks, papers, photos and such. He saw a big stack of comics in one corner, and even saw trash scattered around in there. Candy wrappers, mostly. _What the hell, LP?_ He thought, rolling his eyes. _Clean up your shit._

But as he rummaged around, he felt something else: something smooth and flat wedged between one of the comics. When he pulled it out, he saw that it was a 8x10 glossy of himself as Darkwing that he'd given LP long ago. It was scratched a little, but hey, it still might be worth something. But Drake had never signed it, though—didn't LP know that it'd be worth a whole lot more if he had his signature? LP had plenty of time to ask him to sign it, too, but he never did, the big fool. Even so, Drake couldn't deny he was just beaming at the fact that Launchpad had kept the picture, though. Many people, not realizing Darkwing Duck's greatness, either trashed it immediately or weren't in the least interested in even accepting it. But not LP. From the very beginning, Launchpad had always been his #1 fan.

He dug around some more, and found another picture, one that was dog-eared and much, much older. It looked like an old Polaroid, and as soon as he saw it Drake burst out laughing. It was a photo of a very young Launchpad, all teenaged, knock-kneed, and gawky, standing with a man and woman who could only be his mom and dad. 

_Wow, LP used to be kind of a string bean_ , he thought with wonder. _When did he stop being a scarecrow and become so jacked?_ Did he have to start working out to get those big arms, which—he couldn't argue —felt pretty nice when they were wrapped around him? Not that he, erm, _allowed_ that many hugs from his sidekick, but well, it happened sometimes. Unlike his physique, which had changed drastically as he got older, it looked like LP had always had a chin on him. _Definitely got that from dear old Dad,_ Drake thought, chuckling. Looking at this photo made him smile, but at the same time, something about it made him feel like something was eating away at his stomach when he looked at it. It made him feel strange. _Wistful._ He carefully tucked it flat between two comics, where he'd found it. 

But the stack of comics wobbled a bit as he touched them, and one of the comics fell over. Now sitting on top of the stack was yet another picture, but this one wasn't heartwarming. _Not in the least._

It was a picture of a young woman. A very cute, some might even say _sexy,_ woman. 

Drake gulped, feeling like ice water had been poured down the back of his shirt, as he picked up the picture. The girl was blonde, clad head to toe in pink with an enviable, cute, tiny waist— she had a smart little figure all around, really—and was blowing bubblegum as she winked at the camera. Drake felt his guts wrenching painfully as he scrutinized the photo. 

Well, he wasn't _PLANNING_ on finding pictures of Launchpad's old girlfriends today, but _here we are._ _That's what you get for SNOOPING,_ Drake, he admonished himself. He certainly shouldn't have been surprised that someone as _hot_ as..well, ahem, _looked like_ Launchpad wouldn't have gotten around a little. But finding evidence of it made him feel sick, and suddenly he wanted to rip the photo to tiny little shreds, as if that small, petty act could erase the woman's existence. 

_But hold up._ None of this—this woman, or Launchpad's love life in general—was any of his business! Why in the hell should _he_ care if LP had a _MILLION_ girlfriends! It had nothing to do with him in the least. But he was shocked at himself when he discovered that even finding out about this single one made him feel just...fucking _awful._ Bitter, even. 

He fully intended on just unceremoniously tossing the accursed photo back into the drawer, but without really knowing why, instead he slipped it into the pocket of his apron. 

_Hmm, well._ There were other parts of the house he could dust, maybe clean out. _Yes, I could also go ahead and take the trash out, too,_ he thought darkly. Without looking back, he left Launchpad's room. 


	4. Tuesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Day 2 of being all by himself at home, and so Drake decides he'll clean the house. But he rediscovers the photo of LP's girlfriend, and the idea of her keeps eating away at him. Later, Gos drops the bomb that the girl in that very photo is why LP left him all alone this week.

Today was Tuesday, and for the second day in a row, Drake took Gosalyn to school. He must have been cramping her style, though, because she begged for him to just let her come home on the bus that afternoon. Drake suspected it might be because he didn't really have a filter on how often he called her "sweetie," or maybe it had something to do with how he often ended up picking fights with the soccer moms in the carpool lane. It was their fault for being so SLOW and _STUPID._ _And I don't care if your kid is an Honor Student. Clearly your KID ended up with all the brains in the family._

When he got home, it was officially Day 2 of him staring down the barrel of an endlessly boring day. He had cleaned a little bit yesterday, but maybe today he could forget how bored— _he wasn't LONELY, okay?_ —he was by giving the house a deep-clean. That at least would shave off a few hours. Drake didn't want to think about what he would be doing tomorrow to try to fill the void. _Hurry up and come home, LP! I'm dying over here._

He decided that he'd start with the vacuuming. It mercifully made a ton of noise, too, which would be a welcome change from the _you-could-hear-a-pin-drop_ eerie silence the house had during the day lately. He slipped on his apron—don't want dust and dirt making a mess of THIS immaculate little ensemble—and was just about to plug in the vacuum when he felt something in the apron pocket. Frowning, he reached in, and pulled out the photo he'd stolen from—err, _accidentally carried out of_ —Launchpad's room yesterday. He had planned on just tossing it in the garbage, but something about it didn't let him. He could only stare at the cute, winking girl in the photo, who seemed to mock him with her very existence. 

_"Hiiiii, I'm Launchpad's girlfriend~"_ he could almost hear her gush in an annoying voice he invented for her. Drake scowled deeply at the damned bimbo and threw her photo over onto the coffee table. 

Did Launchpad really like girls that were THAT feminine? He didn't get much femininity around _here,_ that's for sure. But then Drake noticed his own frilly pink apron and cleared his throat. _Err, well, this was a little on the feminine side, maybe._ And now that he thought about it, his shirt—which WASN'T pink, but was _close enough_ —was a sweet, cute shade too. Bewildered, Drake pulled at his apron and his shirt as if he'd never seen them before. W-was LP into this kind of thing? Something a little... _pretty?_

Drake shook his head violently, coming back to Earth. _Wait, what in the hell am I thinking?_ Why should he care what colors or fashions Launchpad liked or didn't like? Drake didn't need to fit any particular aesthetic just to impress that big idiot. And he _certainly_ didn't need to compare his personal tastes with some airheaded girlfriend of Launchpad's. He plugged in the vacuum and got to work cleaning the house. _Yes, that's right, Drake,_ he told himself. _Be sensible._

But every time he passed by the coffee table while he was cleaning, he would see that little tramp's impish grin and he could feel his normally ironclad sensibility and dignity start to waver. The mere idea of her was just...eating away at him, like acid. He could easily move the photo—or just freaking TRASH it—but somehow, he _couldn't._ He just kept staring at it, bemoaning her existence, and balefully thinking things like, _Why was Launchpad with **her?**_ But then he'd think, _why on Earth **wouldn't** he be?_ She was obviously beautiful (not that Drake _wasn't_ ), but she looked like she was actually a kind person, unlike _somebody_ we won't name. She was somebody that was probably deserving of Launchpad's attentions, not some grouchy misanthrope like himself. As if the photo was casting an insidious spell on him each time he looked at it, the more his ego deflated. 

By the time Gosalyn got home, he had descended into pure depression mode: like a cliché, he was in his bathrobe, looking like a hot mess, blearily watching some dumb romantic comedy and mindlessly stuffing his face full of ice cream. Occasionally he would glance over at the coffee table and see Launchpad's girlfriend just there grinning up at him, MOCKINGLY, and the heartache would begin anew. The ice cream made him feel a little better, though.

Gosalyn was startled as soon as she opened the front door. "Dad?! What in the heck is wrong with you? What happened? Did Gizmoduck embarrass you on live TV again?"

Drake just threw a hand dramatically over his forehead, and leaned on the armrest. "Oh, it's nothing, Gos..." He didn't need to burden his kid with his problems, so he thought he'd keep it vague.

"Yeah, _riiiiiight._ Hey, what's this?" _Oh shit._ She'd caught sight of the photo sitting there on the table. Drake desperately tried to swipe it up before she got to it, but she was too fast for him.

"Oh MY _GOD,_ Dad. Are you all mopey and depressed because of _this?_ Don't you know who this is?"

"Of course I do. She's Launchpad's girlfriend..." The way he said it came out sounding more like a lament than he'd meant it to.

Gosalyn looked confused, but then, she got a strange kind of mischievous, knowing look on her face. "Yeah...his _girlfriend."_

"The existence of whom is something he's APPARENTLY been _hiding_ for quite some time now! Why doesn't he trust me enough to let me know? As his best friend and his HERO, it's my RIGHT to know!" Drake then stuffed his mouth full of more Rocky Road and watched as some tramp kissed some guy in the dumb Hallmark movie. The guy had the same kind of stupid look on his face that LP sometimes got when he was happy. A look that he sometimes gave Drake, which always made his stomach feel all weird. 

"Yeah, Launchpad _reaaaaallly_ should have let you know about her, Dad. But, maybe he was too shy to tell you about his private life, since you aren't too friendly towards ANYONE who shows an interest in him." Drake shot her a glare, but he supposed she wasn't wrong.

Gosalyn opened her hand and let the tramp's picture flutter slowly back onto the coffee table. Drake's eyes were instantly glued to it. "You know, Launchpad told me that he was going to go see this girl while he was in Duckburg."

Drake's heart skipped a beat. "Wh-wh- _WHAAT?_ I thought he went there for the air show?" But instead, he went there to see... _HER?!_ His mind was reeling.

"He probably asked her to go to it with him, Dad. Ya know, it's like they're having a week-long DATE." She emphasized the word 'date,' and Drake thought he would throw up some of the ice cream he'd scarfed down.

Drake then remembered that LP had INDEED said he was staying at a _hotel—_ the note with the address and everything was sitting untouched on the kitchen counter—and suddenly, he thought he would feel _oh-so-much_ BETTER if his daughter had just kicked him in the gut. 

How DARE LP leave just to go—and here, he felt himself furiously blushing—play _hanky panky_ with some pink-loving, blonde little Jezebel for a week! Drake stood up and swiftly threw down the carton of ice cream, which Gosalyn immediately started snacking on as she curiously watched her dad pace the room.

_He was going to interrupt the big liar and make him regret he'd EVER done this to him!_ Drake grabbed his cell phone and quickly dialed Launchpad's number.

It rang and rang and RANG. _GRR! The nerve of LP to ignore him like this!_

But then, a bubbly-sounding girl's voice answered, jolting Drake like a lightning bolt. "Um, hello? Like, Launchpad's in the bathroom, so he'll have to getcha back, kay?" 

Drake was too startled to answer. _It was... **HER.** Launchpad's....girlfriend. Had to be. _ The Valley-girl accent, with that annoyING?, liltING?, intoNATION? that made him want to slap her through the phone, perfectly matched the cutesy pink clothes and bubblegum image of that accursed photo. Her voice was pretty close to the one he had imagined for her, but hearing it actualized made his blood boil.

But what was worse was the fact that she had answered LAUNCHPAD'S phone, as if she had ANY right to. He just stared at his own phone in horror, trying to contemplate the audacity of this little tramp.

"Like, is anybody there?" Without saying a word, Drake simply hung up on her.

He then quickly texted LP: i was looking for the screwdriver. just found it. enjoy your trip 

A lie, just so he wouldn't call him back. To be sure LP couldn't reach him, though, Drake swiftly turned his own phone completely off.

His mind was just reeling at having heard the mysterious woman that LP was off having a secret rendezvous with. It was like the photo had come to life. 

_But what else was she like? Why did Launchpad want to be with her? Why did he choose to go to Duckburg to be with her, instead of staying put where he should be, here at home?_ With Gos, and well...him, OBVIOUSLY. He couldn't directly ask LP—the big _sneak_ —because there's no way he'd get a straight answer. If Drake wanted to get to the bottom of this mystery, he was just gonna have to figure it out for himself. Nobody was gonna just quietly steal his sidekick and best friend away like this, if _he_ had anything to say about it.

_Well. It looked like he'd be going on a little trip to Duckburg._


	5. Wednesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drake heads to Duckburg to start tailing LP. After (creepily) spying on LP for a while, he figures out that LP and his girlfriend are going to meet up later, and he has every intention of being there, too.

It was Wednesday morning, and Drake was a duck on a mission. He had so much energy, it was just as if he had never been such a mopey, depressed wreck yesterday. That brimming, electric energy was no doubt due to the fact that, thanks to that little tidbit from Gosalyn, he had realized that Launchpad had very SNEAKILY decided to spend this week not _just_ shirking his sidekick duties at that stupid air show, but he was off seeing some _girlfriend_ of his! If he had just SAID that was what he was doing, Drake would have been just fine with it. _Really._ But he hadn't, and so it was up to Drake to figure out what the deal was, and of course, that meant going to Duckburg himself. Now, he didn't intend on staying there for long. He just needed to check up on who this little bimbo was. It was...for his sidekick's _safety,_ of course! That weirdo Valley-girl tramp needed to FIRST get clearance from Drake to be with Launchpad. Not that she'd get it. _EVER._

He had called in a favor from Binkie Muddlefoot from next door—which meant he'd have to attend one of their stupid barbecues in exchange at some point—and had gotten her to look after Gosalyn this evening. He wasn't sure yet if he'd be staying overnight in Duckburg—he certainly didn't INTEND to—but wanted to make sure Gos was cared for and that she had some kind of adult supervision while he was out. Otherwise, his house would no doubt be a ruin of ash and rubble when he got home. 

He walked Gos to the bus stop, explaining that she'd be staying at the Muddlefoots' tonight. "It's because I, uh, I've got some urgent business to take care of."

"In Duckburg, right?" 

He gulped, not meeting her gaze. 

"You're just going to go _SPY_ on Launchpad, aren'tcha Dad?" She was shaking her head at him in disbelief and simultaneous amusement.

But before he could retort, she gave him a big hug. "Go get 'im, Dad!!" Drake looked down at her with some confusion. 

_Hmm._ Somehow this felt like one of her schemes, where she'd try something sneaky to get out of doing chores or weasel her way into tagging along for a case. But he didn't have time to figure it out, so he just gave her a peck on the cheek, and waved her goodbye when the bus came and picked her up.

He then hurriedly went back to the house and threw together a spy—err, _surveillance_ kit and other items he'd need for his little day-trip. Right before he headed out the door, he snatched up LP's hotel information too, so he'd know where to lie in wait.

Duckburg wasn't too far from St. Canard, but the traffic on the bridge was so bad he was just sitting there for more than an hour, since everything was at a dead standstill. Occasionally he would glance at his reflection in the rearview mirror, and some part of him, deep down inside, seemed to urge him, _Just turn around and go home, Drake. What are you even doing?_ But that part of him was STUPID. Because if he went home now, that would have meant he'd _lost._ And he wasn't about to lose his sidekick and best friend and... _and..._

When he finally got to Duckburg—with its accursed clean air and pretty atmosphere, _oooh, it just made him sick_ —he found Launchpad's hotel easily enough, and carefully parked his car across the street. Thank God he drove a kind of nondescript, little blue car, so it wasn't one to draw that much attention parked alongside twenty others just like it.

Before exiting the car, he made a quick costume change: instead of friendly suburban dad, he now was clad in a big trenchcoat, large sunglasses, and a nice tando hat that he could pull low over his eyes. This hat wasn't as sexy as his Darkwing one, but hey, it was hard to compete with _perfection._ His disguise complete—who _cared_ if no one in half a century ever dressed like this—he found a nearby bench and sat down on it, as cool as you please. Pulling out a newspaper (because yes, if he was going to do this, he was going _Old School),_ he punched a hole through it, and stuck some binoculars through the hole, aimed directly at the entrance of LP's hotel. 

It was only just now 9:30 am, and given LP's penchant for sleeping in (hell, they BOTH liked to, especially after a difficult case), he figured he could catch the big idiot as he was leaving the hotel for the air show. And sure enough, eventually he spotted the big lug emerging from the lobby. His heart skipped a little when he saw him, even though there was no reason for that. He looked the same as always: boring brown pilot gear, his dumb cap, that stupid fluff of red hair, handsome, kind face, that perfect smile, his _sexy_ swaggering stride... _Uhh, okay, don't get distracted,_ Drake, he thought, scrambling as he saw that Launchpad was walking away down the street. _Time to tail the bastard._

The hotel was surrounded by others like it, and probably to accommodate hotel patrons and other visitors to that part of town, there looked like there was a place down the street where cabs congregated. It looked like LP was headed there now, most likely so he could hail a taxi to get to the air show. Drake quickly went through the crosswalk, occasionally ducking behind trash cans and telephone poles in his effort to 1) be _DRAMATIC_ but more importantly 2) to catch up to Launchpad without being seen. He eventually got close enough behind LP that he could hear that he was talking to somebody—probably _HER_ —on his cell phone.

"Well, after the 5 o'clock show ends, why don't we meet up at Brigitta's? We haven't eaten there in ages!" 

Drake scowled beneath his sunglasses and hat. _AGES?_ _How long has he been seeing this tramp?!_ _And how the heck do you **spell** that? Wait, wasn't that that one businesswoman...?_

Launchpad continued. "Well, anytime's fine by me. Uh-huh. We can talk about it later, too. I'm boutta grab a cab, so I'll meet ya at the west entrance. Kay, bye," he said, and suddenly started turning towards Drake. 

Startled, Drake did his best swan dive into a bush. His rustling around in the leaves didn't seem to alert his sidekick, though, and within twenty seconds LP had hailed a cab, and then he was long gone. Peeking out from the bushes, a couple of leaves sticking out of his mouth, Drake knew there was no way he could follow him to the air show now—not that he couldn't figure out where it was on his own, of course. Meh, it'd be a nightmare to be in that crowd anyway, and it didn't seem that conducive for listening in on private conversations. But the air show didn't matter, because luckily Drake had figured out where LP was going tonight, so now, finding this restaurant would be the next step. His plan was going juuuust fine. 

Drake smirked, hidden in the shadows of the bushes. _By the end of tonight, he expected he'd learn **plenty** about this secret relationship LP had been hiding from him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know much about her, but I read somewhere that Brigitta from the comics once owned a restaurant, so I gave her one here. Also, she's obsessed with Scrooge, and that theme of obsession is well, not _unrelated_ to what's going on with Drake right now.


	6. Wednesday Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drake stalks Launchpad and his girlfriend during their date at a restaurant in Duckburg, and antics ensue as he tries to eavesdrop on the two lovebirds.
> 
> This chapter is kinda long, but plays out very much like a romantic comedy.

After some initial setbacks, Drake found the restaurant where he was pretty sure that Launchpad and his stupid girlfriend would be eating at tonight. The place was way nicer than Hamburger Hippo, that was for _damned_ sure. Drake felt angry that LP had never _once_ thought to bring him, his best friend, not to mention his HERO, to a place like this. Darkwing Duck and Drake Mallard both _more_ than deserved to be taken somewhere nice once in a while! So why in the hell hadn't Launchpad ever done it? 

Now, ahem, you have to realize that Drake wasn't _pouting,_ his bottom lip was sticking out just because he was a _teensy_ bit upset.

The restaurant was the kind of place you'd pick as the setting for a nice date, and it seemed to have a dress code, but only a minimal one. Men were filtering in wearing decent dress shirts and blazers and such; meanwhile, many of the female patrons wore pretty, flowy dresses. Good thing Drake had brought a nice shirt along. He'd get a table and spy on—err, _observe_ this weird girlfriend of LP's.

He went in and made a reservation for one for 6:30 that evening. Surely Launchpad and his girlfriend would arrive by then. He made a mental note of the layout of the place: behind the hostess welcome area, the restaurant was fairly open in that he could see all of the tables at once, at least from the entry door. There was a bar and a kitchen off to the left side of the building and dozens of tables with crisp, long white tablecloths, separated only by occasional low, plant-topped partitions. That was lucky because if for some reason LP or his girlfriend started to notice him—not that they _WOULD,_ the duck detective was a master of remaining undetected—he could easily dive behind one of these and quickly disappear from sight.

Satisfied that he had a decent knowledge of the layout, Drake, binoculars at the ready, went and hid out in his car across the street while he waited for their stupid date to start. By 5:45, Drake had done the best sprucing up of himself he could manage, peering at his reflection in the rearview mirror, bending it to analyze the various parts of his impeccable person. His shirt looked good—he left a couple of the top buttons open, just to be a little flirty—and he’d meticulously combed his hair, making sure the feathers fluffed out the way he wanted. Then he applied cologne, but he really should have opened his door first, because he started choking violently on the sharp scent. 

_Err, he meant to do that. Swimming in a fogbank of cologne helped it really sink in your clothes, you know._

_Okay,_ he thought darkly, carding his hand through the air to get the cologne to dissipate, time to start up my new hobby of _lovebird_ watching. Drake observed many a couple going inside, but apparently LP and Miss Bimbo were taking their sweet time getting their asses over here. He tried not to think about the fact that after the air show, they probably went back to their hotel to get ready—which probably meant changing clothes, a shower... _Urgh._ Even the thought of that woman in such an intimate setting with LP made his blood boil. She didn't know the big lug! Not like he did. Not that he'd ever been in a hotel room or alone in _any_ sort of bedroom with LP...But before he could get too wrapped up in blushing madly at that thought, or just being mad in general, he spotted them.

First he noticed Launchpad, and in an instant he felt like he’d been jolted with a massive shock from Megavolt, because his skin was just numb and tingling. _Hot damn._ Launchpad was dressed like he’d never seen him: in a gorgeous blue dress shirt with a gray tailored jacket over it, with finely pressed trousers that fit just right. His red hair was carefully styled, but as always, his goofy little forelock curled up and out just like it usually did out the front of his pilot cap, which he had abandoned for tonight. But _God damn_ he cleaned up good. Drake wiped a drop of sweat off his forehead. He didn’t have the AC on in the car, after all.

Then Drake saw the Woman. Her hairstyle was similar to the one she wore in the photo he saw, a beachy blond shade, but it was longer now and was in that perfect state between being flirtily tousled and straight. Her outfit was a cute, if maybe cut a little too low (did Launchpad like what he saw there?), pink one-piece dress, with a crisp denim jacket over it, making the look seem casual but still dressy enough for this place, at least. The woman had legs for days, too.

_Was everyone on Earth taller than Drake?_ For a second, he cursed his short existence. But, he reminded himself, HE was a superhero, and as such he was plenty flexible and lithe—and that could be applied to ANY context, chaste or, um, _not_ —and he darkly wondered, _Can you say the same, Little Miss Sidekick Stealer?_

Despite his dismissive attitude towards the leggy tramp, his stomach just churned at the sight of her, especially when she touched LP's arm as they walked inside. How _dare_ she touch his best friend. And how dare LP just _let_ her! In any case, LP wasn't _allowed_ to have this separate life! I mean, sure, Drake had his civilian one and superhero one, but that was different, _dammit_. At the very least, he had let LP in on that secret. So why hadn't he told Drake about his? Drake fumed, and aimed his binoculars into the restaurant.

It looked like Launchpad and… _that woman_ had sat down at a table in the middle of the restaurant. Okay, then he would request something maybe off by the bar area to put a little distance between them. Putting on his sunglasses, he headed over. He was quickly seated by the bar, as he'd requested, and thanks to the comings and goings of patrons from the bar area— _drunks,_ he thought, rolling his eyes— it was easy to stare over at LP's table without drawing attention. He ordered a single whiskey, neat, and just quietly sipped it, the smoky taste matching his seething rage as he glared over at the two lovebirds. 

_Oooh, how he hated them._ Well, he didn’t hate _LP,_ but he hated that he was _here._ With this _tramp_ and you know... _not him._

They were chatting and laughing, and the woman touched Launchpad's hand sometimes. It looked like he had known her for a lifetime. _But how?_ He needed to get closer. The bathroom was across the restaurant, so he could feign like he was just going over there and try to eavesdrop. He walked slowly behind their table, so that LP's back was to him. Launchpad could instantly recognize him, but this dumb tramp wouldn't have any idea who he was, so it didn’t matter if she saw him or not. Once he was only about a table away, he dropped to the floor, pretending to look for something, like a contact lens. And at last he heard snippets of their conversation.

"Oh my God, Launchpad. I, like, can't believe Kit pulled off that maneuver today!" If possible, she sounded even _dumber_ in person than she did over the phone.

"Heh, yeah, he always said he'd perfect it someday. And he didn't crash once!" LP said, as if amazed.

_Huh, it sounded like they were talking about the air show. No surprises there._

"Sounds like tomorrow he's on the schedule again, but he'll be flyin' formation with my ol' buddies from back in flight school. Should be fun to see what they came up with."

"Totally! I, like, wonder what our old friend Jack will do!"

Drake rolled his eyes at the floor. _This "totally" sucked. How did they **both** have old friends? That they SHARED? _And meanwhile, LP was his _only_ friend, really. _This was so damned annoying!_

He was glowering at the floor as if it was the one who had offended him when another restaurant patron suddenly tripped over him.

“Oh, wow, excuse me," came a soft, deep voice. "I am so sorry. I didn't see you down there. Are you hurt?"

A tall, muscly man— _was Drake put on this Earth just to be tormented by this type of guy?!_ —was helping him up, peering down at him, eyes big with concern.

Drake’s breath hitched a little, because something about this guy's effortless, handsome grin kinda looked like… _no._ “Oh, I'm fine, thanks,” he whispered. He was quite aware of how close Launchpad and his stupid girlfriend were, so he was making an effort to keep his voice down.

There was a sparkle in the man's eyes. “Hey, let me help you back to your seat. You were over by the bar, right? I saw you before over there, sitting pretty by yourself,” the man said, and his hand was gingerly on Drake’s shoulder. He was dressed impeccably, and Drake had to admit, he was very handsome.

"Err, I'm okay, really. But thank you. I was heading to the restroom." Craning his neck towards the bathroom, Drake was only half-listening, responding as if he was on auto-pilot.

The man warmly smiled down at him, catching his eye again, and once more Drake was instantly reminded of a certain _somebody_ two tables away.

“All right. Look, uh, this might be a little sudden, but…” the guy suddenly stammered, and he pressed something into Drake's hand. Winking, he left Drake standing there and headed back toward the bar.

Drake realized that since that man had left, he was now in clear view of LP's table. His blood froze. _Shit, if he kept just standing here like a dope, the tramp might notice how weird that was, and then Launchpad might turn around and see him!_ So he got his ass in gear and fled into the bathroom, quickly hiding in a stall to recollect himself.

_Wait, what was this paper in his hand?_ It had some kind of phone number on it. _What in the hell?_

_Ohhh,_ he thought, nodding. That tall guy who gave it to him looked like he might work for some recruitment agency or something, so maybe he thought Drake needed work, too. He _was_ hanging around in a restaurant bar on a Wednesday night, after all. Only _losers_ did that. And old DW wasn't a loser! He, uhh, just sometimes _pretended_ to be one, like tonight. _For undercover purposes._

He heard the giggles of women coming into the bathroom and froze. **_Shit,_** _he'd accidentally gone into the wrong one!_ He would need to wait until they left, but it was a good ten minutes before they finally did. Peeking through the crack in the door, he rolled his eyes at how long they were taking. 

_No, that color lipstick does **not** match that dress, but go on and put it on, sweetheart, and get out of here._

He left the stall, and was just about to emerge when he smacked into somebody entering the bathroom, and he was knocked to the floor. Apparently tonight was the night for him getting trampled by random people. He looked up and his stomach did a couple of flips when he saw a very familiar-looking pink dress on a similarly familiar-looking woman.

_A woman who was a huge threat to the way he was accustomed to living. Him, LP, Gos. It couldn't **just** be him and Gos, not anymore. Without LP, they weren’t complete. He belongs with us, dammit. He's an indispensable part of our family. My family. He's... **my** Launchpad._

The tramp clapped a hand to her face in alarm. “Oh my Goood! I'm, like, sooo sorry. Are you okay?”

He quickly looked away so maybe she wouldn't take too much note of his face. “Yeah, I'm alright," he murmured in the direction of the sinks. "I, uh, accidentally went into the wrong bathroom…sorry about that, ma’am. Excuse me!”

And before she could say anything else, he fled outside, pausing at the space between the two bathroom entrances, scanning for Launchpad.

  
_Oh shit._ Like his girlfriend, Launchpad wasn't currently at their table either. _Better move!_

So crouching occasionally behind partitions and peering around, he carefully made his way back over to the bar seating area. There were a couple of stares his way, but _whatever._ They should count themselves lucky for seeing Darkwing Duck's enviable fox-like reflexes. He needed to sneak around because he’d already smacked into LP's girlfriend, and now he was trying to avoid smacking into LP, too. The jig would be up, then.

Back at his seat, he locked eyes again with that recruiter guy, who winked at him again and made a "call me" gesture.

_No thanks, weirdo. Little do you know, I have a perfectly good job already, just not in this annoying town. Too bad so sad, but you're all stuck with that goody-two-shoes Gizmoduck._

He scanned the room again, and saw LP coming out of the bathroom and head back to his table, where that woman was already waiting.

_Holy shit_ , it was a good thing he never went in the men's bathroom! But he still wanted to listen to them a little more. _But how?_

Then he noticed a small table with a computer on it behind LP and that tramp's table. It was empty, but Drake noticed others like it around the restaurant. It seemed that serving staff would walk up to them and use the computers there to check their tables or something, looked like. Maybe if he could snatch one of those black vests from someone he could pretend to be staff and stand there and eavesdrop some more. _But where could he find one?_

He turned back toward the bar, and as if it was a miracle, he saw a staffers’ vest resting on a seat right inside the bar. Maybe it was one of the bartenders'? He quickly sidled up to the edge of the bar, which was empty on this side, and looked around. The sole bartender working was talking with somebody, probably trying to cut them off because they seemed _waaaay_ too drunk for so early and on a weekday. _Good, a distraction._

With a quick dive over the counter, Drake grabbed the garment and just as easily leapt back over the bar. He slipped it over his dress shirt, and grabbing an errant towel that was on the bar counter, he let it hang over his forearm to really sell the look. In twenty seconds he made it over to the service station, acting like he had every right to be there. And if it was to save his best friend from being stolen away by that damned woman, he DID have every right to do this.

His back was to them, but he could hear their tidbits again. They were in the middle of some kind of conversation that sounded like it was about their relationship.

"Soo, you haven't met anyone else, have you?" She teased.

"Aw, naw, I guess I'm in it for the long haul, for better or for worse." Launchpad sounded flustered for some reason.

"That's like sooo sweet!"

"Well, I guess we'll see if anythin' comes of it or not. But it's so rough. Sometimes I dunno if my heart can handle us just bein' friends, anymore." _What on Earth was he talking about? You're CLEARLY dating her, LP!_

"Aww, don't lose hope! I'm, like, sure something will happen. You just gotta keep trying!" She said encouragingly, in an irritating kind of sing-song voice.

Wait, why was she telling him that kind of stuff when, presumably, SHE was going out with him? Was she joking TO HIS FACE about stringing him along? _What a bitch!_ He gripped the edge of the service station table in anger, feeling the cheap plywood crack a bit.

Then in his peripheral vision, he saw another waiter sidle up behind him and whisper harshly in his ear.

"Dammit, Finch! I keep telling you your station is 25, not 23! Anyway, one of your tables needs refills on water, so get to it, newbie."

"Um, yessir," he said quickly, making sure not to turn and face the guy, and started to sidle slowly back towards the bar, but the guy stopped him. "Refills, man, look!" and with that, the waiter pointed at the table needing drinks, which was of course the table belonging to Launchpad and that woman.

_Fuck!_ "Okay," he said simply, and went to the next nearest station, whereupon the other waiter seemed satisfied. He picked up the water pitcher on the station table, and waved at the guy, who shrugged and finally got off his back, going back to doing his own goddamned job.

Drake promptly left the pitcher on the table and then stopped dead in his tracks when he saw YET another waiter— _shit, was this the REAL Finch?!_ — coming towards him. LP's and the bimbo's table was in between the real waiter and this service station, plus there was that other annoying waiter to worry about...He was trapped. He had only _seconds_ to make a decision.

_Uhhhhh….!_ In a stroke of luck, Launchpad was looking away at that very instant, and that damn woman wasn’t paying attention either. _Time to **literally** make a leap of faith._

And so he took a long, skidding dive under Launchpad and his stupid girlfriend’s table, sliding under the pristine white tablecloth, but amazingly, none of his crazed actions made any sound. His heart was thundering; did anyone notice him do it? He waited several agonizing seconds for someone to lift up the tablecloth and bust him. But no one did.

He let out a long sigh of relief, as quietly as he possibly could. He was now under their table, with the tramp and LP’s legs on either side of him. This was...very awkward. But Darkwing Duck had had weirder and more embarrassing encounters before, and truth be told, this would be the best place to listen to their conversation unimpeded! 

And just as he was planning to do just that, suddenly, the woman kicked one of her legs out, possibly to cross it over the other. Drake saw it at the last second and scrambled to take a barreling dive away from her, but he couldn’t have chosen a worse place to jump to. Before a _very_ compromising collision, he froze in mid-pratfall.

Two inches from his face was Launchpad’s sizeable lap.

In a tenth of a millisecond, Drake’s mind was completely addled. _Sunflowers. Starry skies. A beautiful sunset._ Peaceful, lovely images floating across his thoughts.

_Wait, what was this weird tingling?_ Then suddenly, he felt an intense burning across his face.

He couldn’t breathe. _Where was he again?_ He couldn’t remember what he was even doing. Something about a restaurant...

There was nothing on God’s green Earth but Launchpad, and his… _that,_ which was, holy moly, just, _big_ , and wow, right _there,_ wasn’t it. Coherent thoughts were gone. But that didn’t matter. He could just stay like this forever, what was wrong with that?

_WAKE UP, DRAKE!_ Came a strangled cry from deep in what remained of his rational mind.

His eyes focused again, and it was like ice water had been splashed on him.

_Oh FUCK!_ He FINALLY got a grasp on what was going on, and he tried not to yelp as he flung himself to a safe distance from both ~~Launchpad’s—~~ err, _don’t go there, Mallard—_ Launchpad and the woman, his heart hammering in his chest.

After he calmed down, he at last began to focus on their conversation.

“So it looks like they’ll be doin’ a couple repeat shows on Friday and Saturday, so I might head home tomorrow instead and surprise Drake,” Launchpad said, and Drake flushed deeply at his words. _He was coming home early to be with him?_

“Is that okay with you? This was our thing,” he said gently, and Drake felt his skin prickling with anger again. He didn't want Launchpad to have any kind of 'THING' with this woman.

"Totally! I might head home early, too. I’ve got my own show to prepare for, you know!" The bimbo exclaimed cheerfully.

"That’s right! And I’m sure ya’ll do so great! Too bad I can’t go all the way to Paris to see it." _What did this woman do? Wait...she wasn't a pilot too, was she?_

"I’ll send you, like, ALL the pictures. Don’t you wig out about that!" Listening to this lady was like listening to a time capsule. Drake hoped he wouldn’t pick up an annoying verbal tic from her. 

_Yeah, whatever. AS IF that would ever happen!_

"Well, truth is, part o’ why I wanna go home early is that, it’s just, ya know, I’m a little worried about Drake—after that text last night, he turned off his phone. I think he might be mad at me for some reason...” Launchpad sounded so morose Drake wanted to punch himself for being so petty before.

“Like, why would he be mad? You told him you were planning this, right?”

“Yeah, told him and Gos both, and they were fine with it when I left. I just don’t get it…”

“Do you think, like, maybe he’s jealous?” _Shit._ His stomach lurching violently, Drake could feel his ears burning at this. _Maybe this lady was smarter than he'd thought._

“Aw, there’s no way _that’s_ what’s goin’ on,” Launchpad said sadly.

“Well, just check out who you’ve been spending all this time with! A TOTALLY rad chick like me!” The tramp laughed, and slowly, Launchpad joined her.

"C’mon, cut it out," he chuckled. She had clearly put him in a much better mood. Drake’s heart felt heavy. He wanted to be the one to put a smile on LP’s face, not cause him misery. _God fucking dammit._

Then through all the mirth, that woman said, “So when do you wanna meet up again?”

They were _already_ planning more secret dates. _**No.** _ Drake’s heart was ripping in half.

He _couldn’t_ let this happen. **_No more._** His heart _couldn’t_ take it. Before he could stop himself, he dove out from under the table—

And in an instant, was glaring, pointing and yelling at the big, kind, handsome, IRRITATING man who had caused him to go so utterly crazy. “You CAN’T do this to me, Launchpad!!”

Eyes bulging, Launchpad looked like someone had sucker punched him. “D-Drake?!?! What in the hell are ya doin' here? And...why are ya dressed like ya work here?”

Drake didn’t bother to answer. His emotions were at a fever pitch and he just couldn't control them anymore, and they gushed out like a geyser. 

“It’s not FAIR, you DAMNED IDIOT! Why didn’t you ask ME out instead of this, this, random VALLEY GIRL,” he cried, wildly flailing his hands, indicating LP's dumb blonde girlfriend who was just staring at them with a dopey expression. "I've been here the whole time, WITH YOU for **_so long_** ….so, _why,_ Launchpad? Why do you keep meeting her and planning all these DATES and why didn’t you ever just ask ME to go on a date and ANYWAY the point is…”

Launchpad looked completely flabbergasted.

The woman, however, was just grinning, ear to ear, and— _wait, where did that popcorn come from?!_

"The POINT is, I’m in love with you, you OAF!" And with that, blushing like mad, Drake roughly grabbed the gigantic redheaded idiot by the lapels, and planted the biggest, longest kiss on him that he could muster. He didn’t even know how long he’d been waiting to do this. _And God, it felt right._

“Woah, does that come as part of the meal? Sign me up, please,” said a familiar deep voice, and out of the corner of his eye, Drake could see that recruiter guy as he walked by the table, nodding approvingly. 

_**Well.** He was certainly acting very unprofessional. Drake wasn't about to recommend his services to anyone after **that** kind of remark._

Launchpad’s girlfriend clapped her hands together happily. Wait, _happily?_ Drake just kissed her boyfriend!

“Oh my GOD, Launchpad, I, like, didn’t know he was _already_ your BOYFRIEND!!”

“Well, hell, **_I_** didn’t know either!” Launchpad said, still shell-shocked and blushing like mad.

“DAMN STRAIGHT he has a boyfriend! Well, err, I mean, we weren’t ever officially anything before now, but let me tell you —STAY AWAY FROM HIM, you, you— ** _HUSSY!”_**

The tramp just blinked at him.

Launchpad looked so confused. “Um….DW, why should Loopey stay away?”

Drake pointed rudely at the woman. “Hellooooo, LP? Are my eyes DECEIVING me somehow? Aren’t you out on a date with this bimbo?”

Launchpad and ‘Loopey’ looked at each other for half a second, and burst out laughing. Drake felt his hackles rising up. _What in the hell was so funny about all this?_

“DW, this ain’t a date, an’ I’m not datin’ her,” Launchpad said, and Drake just put his hands on his hips, giving him a _I-don’t-believe-your-BULLSHIT_ kind of look.

Suddenly deadly serious, Launchpad was shaking his head at him. “Loopey’s my sister, DW.” 

_WHAT._

“Wh-wh-wh-?” Drake, who suddenly felt very small and insignificant, was stuttering and pointing every which way. “But, but—?”

Now Launchpad was sternly narrowing his eyes at him. “I TOLD ya, _MULTIPLE TIMES,_ that I was gonna go see the air show WITH MY **SISTER** , DW! And that we go to this restaurant whenever she’s in town.”

“It’s cause their meatball spaghetti surprise is just like WHOA!” She said, grinning, and sure enough, there was a big pile of pasta, complete with horrendously large meatball smack dab in the center, resting on her plate.

_His…sister?_

Drake took a good, long scrutinizing look at Launchpad’s sister, if that’s really who she was. But the longer he looked, the more the vacant, kind of dopey expression, the affable features, and cheerful smile looked a whole lot like Launchpad. Sure, she was a blonde and he was a redhead, but he could see the resemblance _NOW._

Drake felt like he wanted to dive back under the table, because he just realized that he had, in front of an entire restaurant of people—who were _still_ staring—called the love of his life’s sister a HUSSY, of all things. _Oh shit, Drake. What did you do?_

But Loopey didn’t seem to care in the least, and rather happily chowed down some more on her spaghetti.

Launchpad, on the other hand, was CLEARLY _not at all_ pleased with Drake’s behavior when he roughly pulled him down close to him. Drake couldn't deny that he was a little excited by LP’s hand on his arm, but when he looked up to meet Launchpad's eyes, a cold trickle of sweat rolled down his back, because that sharp stare told him he was in some shit. Launchpad didn’t usually get mad at much of anything, but he looked upset now.

“Alright, Drake,” he said gruffly, and Drake’s ears burned at how he was suddenly being much more formal with him. _Where was the affectionate 'DW?'_

“First ya turned off yer phone so I couldn’t call ya back last night," he said sternly, counting the incidents on his fingertips like they were strikes against him. "And that text— I KNOW ya don’t usually have any need for ANY of the stuff in my toolbox, so I knew _somethin’_ was up. I was worried about ya! Who knows how many times I called ya. I ended up havin’ to text Gos to figure out if you were okay. And _now_ ya pull this kinda stunt, coming all the way to Duckburg, to, what, _STALK_ me? Because ya thought I was off with some woman? When I told ya _exactly_ what I was doin’? But ya didn’t LISTEN! No matter how many times I told ya...” Drake felt his stomach churning and his eyes burning as Launchpad scolded him.

“Anyway, I’m pretty upset with ya right now, so I should just end it here.” What did he mean, _end it?_ Before they’d even begun? Drake felt his heart sink painfully.

“Ya better go on home, Drake. I’ll see ya tomorrow night.” He was still coming home, so Drake felt a glimmer of hope. But when Launchpad crossed his arms and coldly turned away from him, it still stung Drake hard, like he'd been slapped across the face.

Loopey was very clearly still listening, but had poured all her attention to her food.

Drake’s insides were just roiling. He stood up slowly, feeling deeply chastised, and left the restaurant with his tail between his legs, nearly literally.

_And…and…LP didn’t call him DW!_ That fact just made his heart wrench and his bottom lip wobble.

As soon as he got into the car, Drake burst into tears, and sobbed all the way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Drake IS _absolutely_ such a dummy he doesn't even realize when another man is hitting on him. I guess he only has eyes for LP.


	7. Thursday Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drake feels terrible about what he did and what ended up happening at the restaurant, and is not really looking forward to Launchpad coming home because he knows LP will confront him about it. Maybe, if he'd been a little more honest about his feelings before, and not succumbed to distrust and jealousy, maybe he wouldn't have made a mess of things...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains all the fluff and a reference or two to the 90s song "Head over Feet."
> 
> Also I just really like the idea of Stern!Launchpad taking his little man to task when he's been bad.

It was Thursday. Drake didn't even have the wherewithal to think about how to fill the day; he was just trying to recover from the hellish night he'd had yesterday. In the span of just an hour or so, he'd completely embarrassed himself in front of a restaurant full of people by confessing love to his sidekick, insulted Launchpad's sister, and made Launchpad so angry at him he'd told him to 'go on home' without him, which just ripped his heart into little shreds. If you had told him two days ago that was what would have gone down, he wouldn't have believed you in the slightest. Hell, he probably would have still denied the fact that he was in love with that idiot. But now he just felt sad. When he went over to the Muddlefoots' and picked up Gosalyn to take her to school, it was clear that she noticed how he was barely speaking, which was definitely _WEIRD_ for him. Before he dropped her off at school, without saying a word, she gave him a big, sympathetic hug. She must have sensed that something had gone horribly wrong.

Gosalyn came home on the bus, and though hours had passed, Drake was just as quiet that afternoon, too. He made them a simple dinner, and saved some for Launchpad, too. Since they had parted on such a sour note yesterday, Drake wasn't really looking forward to when LP came home, but he still wanted to make sure there was something for the guy to eat. He neatly packed it in a little plastic container for him, and put it in the fridge. All the while, his heart was aching.

Around 7 pm or so, Launchpad came back. He cheerfully greeted Gos the same as always, and she jumped up into his arms to give him a hug. But as Drake was dreading, LP still wasn't too pleased with him, and treated him very coolly. He used "DW" again, thank God, but it was stiff and sounded strange to Drake's ears. Gosalyn instantly noticed the strained air between them, and kept looking from one of them to the other, as if she was trying to read something hidden in their expressions.

Drake busied himself cleaning something in the kitchen while Launchpad played a board game with Gosalyn. LP lost even faster than normal though, and Gosalyn seemed to notice he wasn't really paying attention. Once they had played three or four games, with him losing in quick succession, she suddenly made a big show of yawning.

"Wow, I'm tired, guys. I guess I'll go ahead and go to bed." Drake, who had by now settled onto the couch and was absently thumbing through—or rather, _hiding behind_ —a magazine, was floored because he was CERTAIN that was the first time she'd _ever_ voluntarily said she'd go to bed early. She quickly fled upstairs, leaving him and LP alone. 

If the atmosphere between them was weird before, it was downright _tense_ now. Drake just stared at the same page of the magazine for several minutes, not daring to move, icy sweat rolling down his back. There was nothing but silence. 

Then Launchpad, who had been sitting on the other end of the couch, suddenly stood up, and was now towering over Drake. Drake, heart pounding, shyly looked up from his magazine when he felt LP's shadow fall over him. 

"So..." Launchpad was glaring down at him, his expression stern. Drake gulped, and quickly stood up too. At least then he would be a little taller than he'd be just sitting on the couch, cowering in the big guy's shadow. _Time to face the music._

"So...I, I, I'm sorry I interrupted your visit with your sister, LP. I just got really, really, REALLY carried away," he said, biting his lip.

"Damn right ya did," Launchpad said gruffly. Since one of the lamps was off, his face was half in shadow, and Drake shivered at his looming, ominous energy. "That wasn't a very nice thing to do, DW. After I TOLD ya what I was doin', ya still decided to sneak around behind my back like that."

Drake's eyes started to brim with tears again, threatening a repeat performance of last night. "I'm so sorry, LP..." And he was. He shouldn't have done any of the stalking and sneaking around, or ignoring LP's calls, or rummaging around in LP's things, which started the whole mess.

There was a moment or two of silence, with Launchpad just staring down at him, hands on his hips, with a somewhat exasperated look on his face. But the anger seemed to have dissipated, replaced by, _dare Drake hope?_ — a glimmer of fondness.

Drake wrung his hands. "It’s just that, when I saw you with someone else, even though it turned out to be your _sister,"_ —here he gritted his teeth and flushed with embarrassment—"it just made me so _crazy."_ Launchpad raised an eyebrow, as if to suggest that it went a little farther than just "crazy." That was probably a fair point.

Drake continued. "I realized then that, well, I’m head over heels for you, alright?" Here, Launchpad looked shocked, and blushed like he did when Drake kissed him before. 

"I love you! There, I _said_ it! Are you _HAPPY_ NOW? And I’m sorry." Then Launchpad gave him a tender smile that made his heart race, and he quickly looked at the floor, lest his heart explode.

"It’s all YOUR fault, anyway," he mumbled, hugging his arms to his chest. "Making me fall in love with you like this.” _W_ _ow, simmer down, Drake. You’re confessing for the second time in two days._ His eyes were just burning as the tears threatened to fall.

He shuddered when he felt Launchpad place a massive hand on his shoulder, but instead of brushing it off like he often did, he held it there, and gazed up at the pilot.

"I just wish ya would've told me sooner, DW," As if Drake had known it himself, a week earlier. But _maybe,_ he _had._

"Why? So you could've turned me down sooner?" Drake felt vulnerable, indignant. "Well, at least that way I wouldn't've made such a DAMN FOOL out of myself!" He had been trying to fight the tears, but now they were just rolling hotly down his cheeks.

"No, DW," LP whispered, and Drake shivered because _THAT_ was the 'DW' he'd been missing. "I just never thought you mighta felt the same." 

Launchpad now had his huge hands gently cupping Drake's face, and Drake was wide-eyed, his pulse rushing in his ears—hoping, expecting. 

"Now this ain't exactly the circumstance I wanted to do this in, but..." 

And then the tall pilot bent down, and Drake suddenly found himself the receiver of a long, fiery kiss. The soft but hot feel of his lips was just electrifying every nerve in his body, making Drake wish he had known he was in love with this idiot way sooner. _Or at least admitted to it._

When their lips finally parted, Drake was startled to find that they were now cuddling very comfortably on the couch—as if it was the most natural thing in the world—with LP's arm draped around him, and him snuggling up to the pilot's side.

"I got just one question, DW," LP said, squeezing Drake's shoulder and giving him a teasing side-eye. "Why in the hell did you assume Loopey was my girlfriend anyway? I told both you AND GOS that I was visitin’ my sister," he said, looking up at the ceiling as if in contemplation. 

"Cause, even if you somehow didn’t know, or DIDN'T LISTEN," he gave Drake a gruff look and Drake peered up at him sheepishly, "Then why didn’t _SHE_ tell ya?" 

Drake's mouth suddenly felt dry, and he thought he heard a gasp come from upstairs, and the skittering of little feet.

_Oh my GODDDDDD. Gosalyn. She **KNEW.**_

But Drake thought that maybe this whole misunderstanding had been the push he needed to finally connect the dots and figure out how he felt about Launchpad, once and for all. So in all honesty, he didn’t know whether to be mad or glad that Gosalyn had neglected to tell him that _teensy-weensy_ "The-woman-in-the-photo-is-LP's-FREAKING-sister" tidbit.

“Anyway, maybe when Loopey visits again we can all go somewhere together, DW," Launchpad said, smiling down at him. "Just—no more sneakin’ around like that," he teased, waggling a finger at Drake.

"I promise I won't," Drake said, nuzzling him, and was startled at how sweetly he said it. _Oh my God. Am I turning into a sap, like that guy at the mall?_

"Okay then," Launchpad said, and he was kissing him again, and now Drake didn't care if he turned into the biggest sap of them all. Then LP pulled away for a moment, and Drake's heart was pounding as he looked up in his idiot pilot's big, beautiful eyes. 

_Was he going to tell him he loved him? Because Drake loved him back 1,000 times more._

"One more thing—uh, don’t call Loopey a hussy anymore, kay?"

"Err….got it, LP," he said, a little embarrassed.

Then he said it. "I love you, DW."

"I love you too, LP." And even though his heart felt like it was doing one of Launchpad's crazy loop-de-loops, it no longer made him feel sick. 

It was exhilarating. And it felt just like home. 


End file.
